


It reminded me

by xxKaitWritesxx



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Action, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Wade Wilson, Boys In Love, Deadpool Thought Boxes, Fluff, M/M, Marvel Universe, POV Wade Wilson, Romance, Scars, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Hatred, Smut, Spideypool - Freeform, Top Peter Parker, Violence, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-21
Packaged: 2018-07-25 20:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7546711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxKaitWritesxx/pseuds/xxKaitWritesxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short fic filled with Wade angst as he struggles with repressed emotions and self-confidence issues, feeling undeserving of his relationship with Peter... and a sub-plot about hair?</p>
            </blockquote>





	It reminded me

**Author's Note:**

> I'll post more notes at the end, but I just wanted to add that if this fic feels slightly disjointed at first, I promise it'll make more sense by the end- at least, I hope so! Also letting you know that there are self-esteem and self-hatred issues that Wade's storyline centres around in this work (we don't get so much of his humour since this was a tough night for Wade), so if you feel that reading those kinds of thoughts could be triggering at all please be aware before reading :)

“You can use the front door, you know,” Wade smirked as Peter swung deftly through the bedroom window of the apartment. He hadn’t needed to look up to know Peter was coming up the fire escape, but it took him by surprise when the man launched himself straight onto Wade, knocking his book across the bed. Letting his weight fall dead on Wade’s chest, Peter looked up at his boyfriend with wide, expectant eyes, forgetting for a moment that he still had his mask on. Instead, he pushed his lips out so that they strained against the material, and Wade planted a peck on them lovingly.  
“That sucks the fun out of it,” Peter replied. Moving from the bed to hide behind their wardrobe door, he began to shed his suit, leaving the mask until last.  
“Besides, I remember a certain someone who used to do the same thing to me not too long ago… except he never got further than the bed thanks to my killer looks and rugged charm.”  
Wade chuckled under his breath, recovering his book. “Killer looks is right.”  
“You’re so full of shit,” Peter said, tugging a hoodie over his head and stepping back out.  
“I am not; why else would I have felt so disappointed just now when you denied me the sight of your spandex-covered ass? Or better yet-”  
“Okay lover-boy,” he cut Wade off, crawling back onto the bed. He placed both of this arms either side of Wade’s legs, dropping his face on his boyfriend’s lower stomach. The feeling of Peter between his legs was enough to send a rush of heat through Wade. He tossed his book aside, staring down to meet Peter’s eyes. Involuntarily he felt his breath hitch in his throat.  
Peter’s long, luscious brown curls that usually adorned his head (and frequently fell into his eyes, which h found annoying but Wade found enchanting), had disappeared. More accurately, they had been shaved off entirely, leaving only the smallest amount of fuzz.  
“Alright, big guy?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Wade thrust his hands out in response, running his fingertips over Peter’s head. It tickled one way and felt like velvet another. Peter curled up into Wade’s lap, the sensation sending pleasant chills down his spine.  
“Guess you are,” he sighed, lips curling up ever so slightly at the corners. Wade sat in silence, repeating the movement until his hands began to ache and Peter was fast asleep. Wade had never told him, but after a long night out he snored. It was an adorable quirk, and it felt wrong if he dozed off to the sound of silence in Peter’s place. Of course, that wasn’t an issue anymore, what with living together.  
A small bruise sat on his cheek, beginning to purple, and Wade mentally kicked himself for not asking how patrol went- or for reacting at all when spidey literally threw himself into his lap.  
[Twice, if you’re counting.]  
{God, his snoring is rumbling in just the right spot-}  
“Not now,” he hissed at the boxes, gently sliding Peter off of him and into a ball. Once the man was draped in a blanket, he traipsed into their en-suite, practically emanating waves of shock against the bathroom tiles.  
The mirror hit him without warning, and he flinched at the near physical impact of his reflection.  
“Fuck’s sake,” he mumbled. Even after all these years it still took him by surprise. Tonight was one of the worse as far as the scars went; raised and inflamed with blotches of red punctuating their texture.  
[How does Peter even do this?]  
{Jesus Christ Wade, what were you even thinking letting him see you like that?}  
“For starters, I know, and secondly Petey has seen me butt naked, so you can shove it up your ass,” Wade hissed.  
{Technically my ass is your ass, and looking this fucked up you’re sure not getting anything else shoved there anytime soon.}  
The more that he looked in the mirror the more conscious he became of each individual crater; each blood vessel that stood out a little too much; each part of his skin that stung more and more by the second. The boxes continued bickering and hurling insults in the back of his head, so he decided to turn his attentions away from the mirror and into the kitchen, his thoughts wandering back to Peter.  
More specifically, Peter’s hair- or lack thereof.  
Why was it freaking him out so badly?  
[Because you’re unhealthily possessive and controlling?]  
{Because we can’t grab it when he’s going down on us?}  
“All extremely helpful suggestions,” he snapped, pulling the fridge open a little too aggressively. Freshly unpacked groceries toppled to the floor with a clatter.  
“Brilliant, now look what you’ve done.” Hastily he stuffed them back in and shut the door, fingers crossed that they’d stay put the next time somebody opened the door- which would probably be Peter for a three am snack (restless sleeper, fast metabolism and whatnot). He needed to get out and soak in some of the city air into his head. This was ridiculous; he loved baby boy more than anything. His hair didn’t make a damn difference. Maybe he’d run into some thug-types down the darker streets; taking a solid hit or two-  
{or more}  
\- sounded practically delightful right now.  
He opened the front door tentatively, making sure to stop it right before the expected creak, and locked it behind him. The elevator ride felt like it took an age, and by the time he exited the building he was itching for some kind of action. All this pent-up anxious energy was making his skin sting even more.  
[You don’t have skin, you have scars.]  
{You’re nothing more than that, just those monstrous scars.}  
Wade said nothing, simply gritting his fingernails into fists and relishing at their sharp puncture of his palms.  
***  
There was no way to tell how far he had walked, or how long it had taken, by the time he reached the back of an old steakhouse on one of the lesser travelled New York streets. He heard them before he saw them; a pair of guys, early twenties maybe, trying to mess up one of the employees who must have come out into the alley for something. On instinct, he pulled his mask from an inside jacket pocket and swiftly over his head before striding into the alley.  
“Hey fellas, have you seen-” he began in his trademark Deadpool voice. One of the men shrieked something unintelligible, cutting him off.  
“That’s just plain rude- I had a line and everything ready. Didn’t your mama ever tell you not to interrupt?” he called back, steadily approaching the scene with hands in pockets and hips jutting out.  
“I have a gun!” the man repeated. Wade’s eyes adjusted to the light and he made out the silhouette of a pistol pressed to the throat of the worker.  
“Oooh, fantastic!” he clapped, skipping ever closer. As he drew to a halt, his voice darkened with satisfaction.  
“Because I’ve got two.”  
The next five seconds passed in a blur. Wade ripped his guns from his belt. The man turned theirs to face him. Fingertips pulled back on triggers. Arms doubled back with the force of bullets bursting out of barrels. A rain of shots met flesh, and webs began to burst through the air.  
In a blink, Spiderman had landed on the ground next to Deadpool. The pair of them stared at the mess spread in front of them. The two men who had been threatening the employee were webbed up to the wall by their limbs, blood seeping from their knee sockets where Deadpool’s bullets had punctured. The poor employee had fled back inside the building as soon as the gunfight began. Blood was trickling along the ground, tainting leftover puddles pooled from a day’s rain.  
Too much blood.  
“What the shit, Wade!” Peter exclaimed, eyes glued in a look of horror at his stomach.  
“Would you look at that?” Wade said, trying to sound upbeat. The truth? He felt every single damn shot those bastards had landed.  
Peter looked up at him, and even with the mask Wade knew exactly what his expression would look like- agony. He had never meant for him to see this- this wreck.  
“We need to stop the bleeding-” Peter started, grabbing at Wade’s jacket with increasing desperation. He let him take it and press it against the bullet holes, knowing full well it made zero difference to the healing.  
It made a difference to Peter, and that was what mattered.  
“Lean against the wall,” he whispered when Wade began to sway slightly from blood loss. He complied soundlessly.  
They stood there for ten minutes, Pete’s panicked breath rushing in and out of his lungs. He trained his efforts on to Wade’s rapidly healing bullet wounds, pulling the drenched jacket away to reveal blood-stained tears in his t-shirt. Wade lifted his hand to touch Peter’s shoulder in comfort but was gently shrugged off.  
[He doesn’t want you anymore. You don’t deserve him. Look, he’s trying to heal your wounds and you aren’t even talking to him.]  
{What kind of boyfriend are you? If only a gunshot had hit your head, we could be dead now.}  
“That’d still be temporary and you know it,” Wade whispered.  
“Fuck off, Yellow,” Peter mumbled through his focused haze. His boyfriend let out a low laugh.  
“How did you know?”  
“Yellow’s always the asshole… and bullet wounds considered the temporary subject is your death.”  
He spoke so stoically, right up until the word death. There and only there did his voice crack.  
“Oh, Petey,” Wade sighed, leaning his chin on the spider’s forehead. A whimper escaped Peter, the sound muffled by his face now buried in the jacket.  
“I’m okay now, baby boy. No more blood.”  
Silence.  
“It didn’t even hurt, I swear.”  
“For a mercenary, you suck at lying.”  
***  
Peter carried wade slung over his shoulders back to the apartment, inhaling deeply with each rush of air that engulfed them as they swung through the city, building to building.  
“I need a shower,” Wade whispered into the other man’s ear once they were safely inside.  
Peter responded by whipping Wade off of his back and spinning around to face him. He grazed his hips against Wade’s, not caring about the blood rubbing off onto his suit. They tugged each other’s masks off, not wasting a second before pressing their lips together. Discarding his usual tendency for gentleness, Peter thrust his tongue into Wade’s mouth, drawing more and more out of him. Wade’s hands slipped under Peter’s shirt, pressing him into his chest, but Peter wanted more than that. He didn’t want; he needed. He grabbed Wade’s hands behind his back and guided them down, simultaneously biting his lip until he tasted blood. Hesitation thrown to the wind, Wade grabbed Peter’s ass and lifted him from the ground, carrying him into the bathroom and slamming him into the wall.  
“Okay?” he asked between feverish kisses. Peter let out a groan, grabbing the back of Wade’s shirt and tugging.  
“I’d take that as a yes, but you gotta-” Wade started.  
“God dammit Wade,” Peter said, pulling away from him and staring him straight in the eyes. “Stop talking for once and let me make fucking love to you.”  
Wade blinked. “Got it.”  
It took less than a minute to tear their suits off and crash into the shower’s pounding hot water. Peter wrapped his legs around the taller man’s waist and pushed his hands back against the wall, all the while grinding up and down Wade’s hips. Their lips only parted when Peter began to lick and bite down Wade’s neck. He grabbed Wade’s cock and rolled his thumb over the tip, drawing out a frustrated hiss. He slid down the shower wall and landed on his knees, sliding his lips over the sizeable member and sucking, hard, up and down. He gradually moved further and further down, and with every thrust of his mouth Wade groaned louder and louder. Peter slowed at the last moment, tantalising and teasing.  
“You know what you want,” he growled, and at that Wade thrust his cock into Peter’s mouth and grabbed the back of his head, fucking in and out of Peter’s mouth. It was too much to wait, and Peter grabbed his own dick and began pumping up and down, whimpering onto Wade’s cock and sending waves of pleasure up his body.  
“Holy fuck, I’m gonna come-” Wade gasped, and in that instant Peter rose to his feet, spun Wade and around and bent him over. Wade whined, Peter’s continued teasing feeling torturous. The sound was too much to bear, and Peter lined his dick up with Wade’s entrance and thrust inside, both of them letting out cries of pain and pleasure. Peter set a slow pace, gradually getting faster and faster until Wade as practically screaming, strings of curse words spilling from his gaped-open lips. He bent over and took hold of his lover, pumping his dick in and out of his hand in time with his thrusts. Wade balled his hands into fists against the wall, biting his lip. Peter bent down and whispered into his ear: “Now come, Wade. Come for me like I know you want to.”  
In that moment Peter pulled almost all the way out and thrust hard back into Wade, driving his dick hard over his lover’s prostate, and Wade let out a gasp as he came over Peter’s hand. Seconds later he was being filled with Peter’s hot come.  
Separating, the pair leant against the shower wall, chest to trembling chest. Panting breaths billowed out of them as steam. The hot water spilled over them, easing Peter’s muscles and soothing Wade’s skin.  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Wade finally asked, lips pressed into Peter’s fine hair.  
“Soon,” he replied.  
***  
The sun was almost risen by the time they made it into bed. Wade had made sure that Peter was practically shrouded in blankets and pillows, and made both of them hot tea. He sat on the edge of the bed, eyes trained on the sheets. He could feel Peter’s eyes on him; not imposing, but instead delicate in their gaze.  
[He’s too good for us.]  
{What right do you have even sitting here right now? You left him alone and got yourself fucked up, then made him clean up the mess.}  
“I know, don’t you think I know?” he burst out, throwing his head into his hands and digging his fingers into his temples. Peter crawled out of bed and reached over to his love, placing a hand on his thigh and waiting patiently.  
Finally, Wade took a breath. “It was stupid, I know.”  
“Nobody said it was stupid,” Peter replied instantly.  
“But it was. Stupid to get shot up, stupid to let you see, stupid to make you feel responsible for me-”  
Peter cut in. “Wade, stop. What is this really about?”  
Deep breaths, Wade told himself. In, out.  
“I don’t deserve you, Peter Parker. Tonight proved it. I’m this person who can’t stand to see himself in the mirror, and I speak to fucking boxes inside of my head, and my skin burns so I go out and get shot up to forget, and I get worked up about stupid shit like your hair and-”  
“My hair?” Peter asked. “You’re upset about my hair?”  
“Of all of those things that’s the one you interrupt me about?” Wade let out a cynical laugh. “I’m crazy, practically delirious and extremely dangerous, and you’re worried about how I feel about your hair?”  
Peter placed his fingers underneath Wade’s chin and tilted it up to gaze into those bright blue eyes. God, he could get lost there.  
“I did it for you.”  
Wade stared at him, slack-jawed. “I’ll admit Petey, I’m a bit lost there.”  
“We’ve only been living together for a month, but don’t think that I don’t notice those things like the mirror. Do you remember last week, when I walked into the bathroom and you jumped a freaking mile- said something about brushing your teeth when your toothbrush was still on the bench?”  
“Aw shit,” Wade sighed.  
“I can hear a bar fight from streets away; you don’t think I can hear you standing in there talking to the boxes? Defending yourself, or more often tearing yourself down? When I walked in the other day, you had been-”  
“Counting the hairs on my head,” Wade finished. “Six… God, that’s not embarrassing in the slightest.”  
Peter smiled ever so slightly, leaning in to peck Wade on the cheek. “That didn’t hurt, did it?” he checked, and Wade shook his head. Peter could rarely hurt his skin; he was to feather light to the touch. Except for that shower- Jesus.  
“I didn’t want you to feel so… alone, I guess? And I know this is no comparison to what you go through, don’t get me wrong, but I just wanted… to show you that I notice, I suppose, and that I care… moral support and all that. I’m so sorry that it upset you tonight,” he apologised, the tone of sincerity in his voice making his boyfriend’s breath catch in his throat.  
Wade was staring at him, his wide eyes only shining with deeper hues of blue. “Baby boy, that’s…. that’s something else.” He paused. “You’re something else.”  
Peter beamed and crawled into Wade’s lap, the pair feeling at home in the embrace.  
“I wasn’t upset over the way your hair looks, just so that you know,” Wade said, the thought suddenly striking him. “It was more just… I’ve always- and don’t give me shit about this later-”  
“Never,” Peter interjected.  
“-but I’ve always loved your curly hair, and when you came home without it… it reminded me of losing mine; repressed memories and all of that bullshit. It, uh… wasn’t the best time. I think that’s why the boxes started being thunder-cunts- well, more than usual obviously.” Peter sat up, running his hands over Wade’s bald head, feeling the textured scars; memorising the way that they felt (they changed so often).  
“It looks great, fuzz ball,” Wade added, and Peter elbowed him playfully in the ribs.  
“If you want I can grow it back out,” he replied.  
Wade shook his head. “You do absolutely whatever you want with your body, baby. I’ll always love it, and you.”  
They stayed that way for a while, soaking in each other’s warmth.  
“Peter, I have one more question.”  
“Mhmm?”  
“Where did that insane shower sex come from? If I’d known you were such a sexy dom, well lord knows I would’ve let you drag me into that shower months ago.” He winked, and Peter burst out laughing, blushing a shade of crimson. Once he’d sobered up he answered.  
“In all seriousness… Seeing you with bullet holes through your stomach scares the shit out of me, and I got to thinking about if I lost you- which I know you’re going to say will never happen but it’s still that terrifying, looming thought, and I- I needed you. It… well it couldn’t wait.”  
Wade fell silent for a moment. “I should get shot more often,” he replied, and Peter buried his head in his chest to hide his embarrassed smile.  
They crawled into bed together, legs intertwined and Peter snuggling into wade’s firm chest. The rhythm of his love’s breathing, drawn out inhales and restful exhales, almost rocked him to sleep.  
“Wade?” he whispered.  
“Yeah baby?”  
“It’s too cold without it. My hair, I mean.” He paused, head bouncing with Wade’s rumbling chuckle.  
“Tomorrow we’ll go buy you a beanie,” he said.  
“And you,” Peter emphasised. “Plus, once my hair’s grown back you can keep mine too. No way I can deal without my hair in winter. You know, that spidey mask doesn’t do shit to keep out the cold.”  
He wants me, Wade thought, smiling drowsily, and placed a drowsy kiss on his boyfriend’s head.  
“I love you, Petey.”  
“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this piece, it's my second attempt at fanfiction and the first I've posted anywhere, so please let me know if you have any questions, concerns, or comments below, I really appreciate all of the feedback that I can get. I love these characters so much and just want to do them justice :)


End file.
